


Hers

by soixantecroissants



Series: Woman [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bandit Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Bandit Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soixantecroissants/pseuds/soixantecroissants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is a question of whose heart belongs to whom, and Regina makes it clear what her thoughts are on the matter. Companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7512509"><em>(Pretty) Woman</em></a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hers

They’d gone to bed later than usual that night, after a row over something rather trivial had left them both spent and simmering with unfinished anger.

He had been the ridiculous one this time, Robin knew – they were in the middle of a job and he really ought to have kept a level head, but the fact of the matter was that he never could seem to think objectively whenever the Sheriff of Nottingham was involved.

“You’re being absurd,” Regina had scolded him heatedly while he nursed his throbbing hand, sincerely hoping that he hadn’t broken something else apart from that smug bastard’s nose. “We _talked_ about this, Robin.”

“Odd,” he’d shot back, “I don’t recall discussing the necessity of having his bloody tongue down your throat – or was that part of the plan implied when you told me the Sheriff would be _taken care of_?”

It had required a tremendous effort on her part, he could tell, not to walk out on him then and cool down elsewhere for the night. They’d eventually fallen into their bedroll with worlds of unspoken grief still lying between them, though sometime over the course of the evening he must have found his way back to her, rolling to her side of the blankets. He wakes up there before sunrise, with an arm draped over her waist, her hair spread silky-smooth beneath his cheek.

He kisses her shoulder by way of good morning, and all the leftover tension in his body loosens away the instant she turns into him with a half-conscious sigh.

“Hi,” she says, the remnants of sleep still scraping over her throat, and then she’s stretching the full length of her body to match with his, nudging her nose along his chin and whispering there, “I love you.”

“And I you,” he returns, pulling away just enough to get a good look at her – his favorite thing to do upon waking, catching her in these rare moments before the day has brought her guard back up – and savoring everything that he sees.

They hadn’t had the time to wash up before bed, preoccupied as they were with creating a scene in front of his men (he cringes to think of the painfully awkward faces Will and Little John had exchanged with each other before they made themselves scarce). Regina’s dark, lovely eyes – with a smile now crinkling their corners as she gazes up at him – are still lined in that smoky grey shadow she’d recently taken to experimenting with, those sometimes-scowling lips of hers painted in a rather fetching shade of deep red wine.

The color there has somehow, miraculously, only just begun to fade, despite the Sheriff’s most dogged efforts at claiming it all for himself. The fury Robin had felt toward him mere hours before is but a distant memory now – yesterday has gone, and that man hardly matters, he knows, when there’s never been any true doubt in his mind as to where Regina’s heart belongs.

Still, he rather dislikes the knowledge of where her lips had settled last – perhaps this makes him no better, but he is only a man in love, after all – and so Robin leans close and presses a kiss to her mouth, determined to chase away the taste of that blasted Sheriff however he can.

He feels her smile into him, as though she knows exactly what he’s on about, but her lips part with her next breath, silently inviting, and he slips his tongue in to glide along hers. Her hands reach to cradle his jawline, his to bunch away their blankets and grasp at her backside, and for one delirious, infinite moment, he simply kisses her, and kisses her, and kisses her.

And then it reaches that feverish point of not-quite-enough, and he breaks from her with a strangled sort of sound and moves to her throat next, sucking wet, open-mouthed kisses over her pulse point, while her body slides against his in a restless sort of ecstasy.

“You know, this is not the worst way to wake up in the morning,” she says to him, voice husky-low with desire as he palms her rear, squeezing, and angles his mouth lower, nosing the neckline of her nightgown aside, dragging tongue and teeth over skin and collarbone until he’s reached the swell of one breast. “Maybe I should make out with the Sheriff more often.”

Robin bites down to express his disapproval and she arches, gasping, into him, welcoming the bruising little kisses he gives the darkened center of one nipple, and she’s more than breathless by the time he’s turned his attentions to the other side.

Not to be outdone, Regina brushes her thigh against him, slow and deliberate, and he releases a groan that splinters apart halfway through, dropping his forehead into her chest as the lightest touch to his stiffening cock shakes him with unbearable pleasure. His hand roams away from her bottom to the front of her, rucking up her hemline to find her bare for him beneath (the discovery has him hardening further, aching to feel more of her, always), dipping between her thighs, and she clenches around his fingers as he slips two of them inside.

“Gods, you’re wet,” he mutters, adding a third and finding that bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb, circling and rubbing while Regina writhes against him with a heady moan. She grabs blindly at his collar, tugging and tugging until he catches on, and they make quick work of their clothes, abandoning shirts and undergarments before settling back into each other, burning everywhere they touch.

Robin takes a nipple back between his teeth as he presses his fingers into her once more, renewing his efforts to drive her half-wild, but then she’s grasping at his hair with something like desperation and he moves obligingly, shifting upward to find her lips instead. The rigid length of him passes against her center, where his fingers have set a steady in-and-out rhythm, stealing small, heavenly sounds from her with each thrust in again.

Her mouth opens for him, slanting over his in a heated tangle of tongue as he pulls his fingers away, stroking the tip of his cock over her opening, back and forth and back again, until her legs are closing around the jut of his hips, grinding their lower bodies together.

“ _Robin_ ,” sighs Regina, and he presses her over and onto her back in answer, hips pinning her down to their bed. The friction between them climbs to some exquisite degree, and he leans his elbows on either side of her torso to watch as she reaches down to grasp him.

His mouth falls to her neck, muffling his groan as he pushes into her, feeling the snug warmth of her stretching for him until he’s buried deep inside. She’s biting a lip when he lifts his head again, clutching his shoulders and looking more bloody gorgeous than he’s ever seen her, here in these long rapturous seconds while they both stray into that blissful sensation of their bodies joining at last.

He reaches to kiss her, a brief, clumsy movement of lips over lips as he rests their foreheads together, and then they can do no more than breathe shallowly into each other, his hips rising to rock slowly back into her, just how he knows she likes it in these quiet, early hours before dawn.

“You feel incredible,” he murmurs, and she tips her chin up, dotting a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“The others will be up soon,” she tells him – gasps, really – with a teasing half-smile waiting for him by the time he’s recovered enough of his senses to raise an incredulous eyebrow at her.

“Is that a challenge, milady, or are you truly telling me to hurry things along?” he wants to know, teasingly stern, and he rolls his hips into her punishingly for good measure. Her lashes grow heavy, hands chasing shivers across his chest and spine, and then she’s cupping his face, turning his ear toward her mouth.

“I want you to make me scream before they’re awake to hear it,” she whispers to him, and it’s the sexiest damn thing he’s ever heard, the words going straight to his cock.

That he will happily do, Robin thinks with an answering shudder, and he braces himself onto one elbow now, lifting a hand free to wander over the rest of her body. He fills his palm with a breast before lowering to grasp her ribcage, then further down still, waist and hip until he’s gripped the underside of her thigh.

Regina’s lashes flutter, another throaty sound leaving her as he bends her leg back just so, and he’s thrusting into her again ( _so good – gods – yes – fuck_ ) when he hears the crunch of leaves outside, followed by the loud and entirely unwelcome voice of Will bloody Scarlet fairly yelling out across camp, “Oy! Robin! Don’t forget – we’ve got Granny’s crew comin’ round with our supplies! Ten minutes, tops!”

There’s a moment of silence, dreadfully still, then Robin’s sagging into Regina and muttering, “I could kill him. I could very well kill him right now.”

Ten minutes is perfectly manageable, he supposes, but he’d so wanted to take his time with her, making love until they can scarcely breathe let alone leave their tent, and if the jarring nature of their interruption hasn’t already done so, plotting another man’s murder is certainly one way of ruining the mood. He grunts miserably, pressing one last kiss to the corner of Regina’s mouth, and he’s about to lift himself away from her, every part of him already longing to make their return, when she reaches to stop him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demands, then, “Lie on your back.” Robin knits his brows together, hesitating just long enough for her to sigh and nudge him over herself, their bodies separating briefly while she sits up and straddles his thighs.

“This will only take a minute,” she winks before bending down.

“Regina,” he starts, and then words fail him utterly at the sight of her leaning over his cock, still glistening from the time he’d spent inside her. He can only watch, captivated, as she takes him in hand and proceeds to lick him clean of her, her tongue pressing against the tip with a slow, tortuous swirl that he’d – _gods_ – done absolutely nothing to deserve.

The look of her is a breathtaking thing, sucking at his cock, cheeks hollowing as she slides him between her wine-stained lips, and no, Robin thinks as some incoherent noise lodges itself in his throat, no, he doesn’t deserve her at all, this absolute goddess of a woman. He reaches to snag trembling fingers in her hair, feeling her move as she takes him in, over, and over, until she’s robbing him of sight and sound, leaving little else but an intense, paralyzing pleasure as he gasps her name and comes in her mouth at last.

He’s still wobbly-kneed, vision blurred at the edges by the time he’s able to stand, and he goes about attempting to dress himself with somewhat limited success. He eventually lets Regina take over, when lacing up his boots proves too complicated a task for him to manage on his own.

Once she’s finished fastening his vest, he snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her close, thinking he’s at least another minute yet to enjoy this, her. She rests a palm to his chest as he nuzzles a kiss into her hair, whispering, “I’ve every intention of having you properly later, just so you’re aware.” He lets his hand wander down, down, touching her through the thin cotton blanket she’d draped over herself. Her body arches into his, and then she’s reaching to kiss his jawline, his neck, the collar of the tunic she’d helped him button, before moving away.

“Consider me aware,” she flirts over her shoulder, with a coy gaze that heats up his insides, and as she turns again he notices that the red on her lips has, at last, been most thoroughly kissed away.

“There you are,” says Will impatiently when Robin emerges from his tent, blinking out the sunlight as he strides gingerly over to join the lad by the cooking fire. “I was just about to—” Will stops short, attention caught just above Robin’s shoulder, and he eyes him with something too close to understanding before mentioning, casually, “You’ve got a little, you know, there, on your shirt.”

The sounds of an approaching carriage save him from having to respond, and while a distracted Will hollers his greetings to Granny Lucas, Robin’s mind wanders back to his tent, to Regina. He thinks of those richly colored lips, of the kisses she had left on him here, and there, and…well…elsewhere, and he smiles to know all of what she’s marked as hers, and all the ways he'll return the favor.


End file.
